Flying, Singing, Free
by RipredtheGnawer
Summary: AU, no Quarter Quell. Imagine the Capitol people getting to watch the wedding they were so excited about. No fluff, one-shot. Rated T and you'll have to read to find out why, so please read and review!


**A/N: This started as a Gale/Katniss fic, but then I abandoned it for a while. Then, I came back and re-did almost the whole thing. Just a little of my tragic, dramatic, messed-up morbid self.**

* * *

Together.

That is what we will be, Peeta and I, from this day on. Forever. Always, as he would say. But he would be smiling as he spoke, and I would not. Am not. Will not.

The satin swishes as I try to manage the yards and yards of fabric surrounding me. I pull it in, back, and up, trying to find my feet. I spot my toes peeking out from underneath the wedding dress and shove my foot into the pair of high heels. But it's too late, and I tumble backwards, landing on the floor.

"Katniss?" Cinna knocks on the door. It wasn't shut tightly, and it swings fully open, revealing my stylist.

I lean sideways against the wall, closing my eyes. "Sorry," I say.

"It's all right. This isn't easy for you." As always, Cinna knows that I am apologizing for more than falling over. He helps me sit on the stool and slips the shoes onto my feet. I stand and walk into the hall.

"Hi, Katniss," a familiar voice chimes. Prim runs down the corridor towards me, looking gorgeous in her soft blue bridesmaid dress. Madge follows in a more dignified manner. The sight of them makes me want to give up and do what is expected of me, but I can't.

I don't want this wedding. I can't bear the thought of what will follow – the children and then, inevitably, their participation in the Games. Undoubtably they will die.

But I can't let my fear show. I paste a smile on my face and hope it looks authentic, and then just as Haymitch appears in his suit, I excuse myself under the pretense of using the powder room.

My hands are shaking as I enter and do what I came to do, which is not what everyone believes. The final strains of the wedding march are being played when at last the metal stays in place. Pale and terrified, I emerge and hurriedly grab my mentor's arm before the doors open and we walk down the aisle.

I'm sure Haymitch senses my fear, but there's no time for him to say anything. I force my stiff legs to bend, to carry me forward. Peeta is waiting for me at the altar, swathed in a bubble of joy that I can't return. And then the best man, with his face a blank mask. But I know Gale to well for him to be able to hide the agony in his eyes.

I wish I could tell him that it will be all right, that I'll be free from this mess very soon. That he won't have to witness the union of his friend and enemy. The promise of a release is all that keeps me moving.

Peeta takes my hand and the marriage maker begins to speak. This is it. This is my chance.

In a movement so swift that there is no time to stop, I reach around with my free hand and remove the knife from the back of my dress where I've hidden it. The blade enters my ribcage, my heart, but I don't feel the pain. Peeta's eyes are wide with horror - an exact copy of Gale's as my former hunting partner elbows my would-be husband aside and catches me as I fall.

"Catnip!" His voice is rough, his hands are wet with my blood. I can see it spreading over my gown. A crimson flower blossoming in the white. "Why? Just tell me why?"

But I yank the weapon from my body, eliminating the final barrier between my blood and the earth, and it's no longer a weapon. It's the key to the cage I've been trapped in for so long. From my father's death, to the reaping, to those berries, to this. And I've finally found the courage to slide it into the lock.

I can't answer Gale. Not Peeta, as he holds my hand, or Haymitch. Haymitch, just standing over all of us where we are crumpled on the chapel floor, his eyes pits of despair but filled with understanding. I can only lie here as the world recedes. As the suffocating bars dissolve, and the world morphs into an open sky, and I spread my black-and-white mockingjay wings and take to the air.

She's waiting for me, a child bird. Her satiny brown skin as smooth, her golden eyes glowing peacefully. I hear her single request:

_Sing_.

And finally, with no limitations, I can.


End file.
